Time and Tide
by Spikesgirl58
Summary: A prequel to The Deadly Quest Affair.  Napoleon realizes something about his parntership with Illya.  Warning - could be read as slash if you want to read it that way


Title: Time and Tide  
Author: Spikesgirl  
Summary: Regrets and a realization. Prequel to Deadly Quest Affair  
Rating: PG-13 ish  
Warnings: could be slash if you want to read it that way  
Acknowledgments/Notes: My thanks to my Betas and  
Disclaimer: MFU does not belong to me and no money was made with this.

_How can the days go so fast when the minutes go so slow? _Napoleon stared at the clock, trying to will the hands to either speed up or reverse. Maybe go back, just to this morning.

_No, not even that, just three hours and seven minutes_. That would have been enough to time to tie the THRUSH up a little tighter, made sure that the coast was clear, anything to keep Illya from being tossed off that train.

To pretend he had such power was a useless task. He had to look ahead now, think about what life might be like without…

_No, I won't! _ He caught himself even before the thought fully formed. He'd never let go of his optimism before and he'd be damned if he'd give up on his partner now. At least that was the lie he kept telling himself again and again.

He'd seen Illya land, whacking his head firmly on the rail. It was only by the Grace of God that the impetus from the landing threw his unconscious form away from the tracks and not onto them. Had that been the case, the outcome would have been more… final.

Again Napoleon put the kibosh on his thoughts. He had to stay positive. There was so much that needed to be said. Things had been… strained as of late. Napoleon was at a loss to understand it. There had had the close call on the island, but that had come out okay. He knew Illya was disturbed by the incident and had even spoken with the shrinks about it. Of course, Napoleon wasn't supposed to know; he just happened to be in the right place at the right time. Others would have called it eavesdropping; Napoleon called it being a good agent.

There was something else, something that had gone unsaid between them that night. Since then, Illya had distanced himself, pull back into his shell.

_Just like he was when we were first partnered. _ Napoleon remembered those first few days and the awkward silence between them. Illya didn't trust him, but Illya didn't trust anyone at that point – a stranger in a strange land. His trust was something Napoleon had had to earn just as Illya had to prove Napoleon that he was a competent agent.

Slowly, they had warmed to each other. They had gone from strangers to partners to friends. The bond he felt with Illya was nothing short of love_. Not the sort of man/woman love… that would be…_ He stopped there, realizing how wrong he was. What he felt for Illya absolutely was that sort of love and more… he felt more deeply for this man than he'd felt for anyone up to this point in his life. He valued the man's companionship. He valued Illya's trust. He knew his secrets were safe when placed in Illya's confidence and he guarded Illya's privacy nearly as much as the Russian did. They had no secrets and their friendship had no boundaries. Whatever the other needed, there was no price too high, no risk too great to fulfill that need.

_Is that what love is? The willingness to be all and surrender all for another? _Napoleon tore his gaze from the clock to the window. It had been light when Illya had been brought in, appearing more dead than alive.

The doctors had grabbed Illya's gurney, whisking him into x-ray. They had pushed Napoleon aside and told him to stay out of the way.

Now it was dark outside and he wished they were in the familiar walls of medical and not some nameless hospital. He wished they were somewhere safe, where he could let his guard down for a few minutes. Something was chewing on the back of his neck, making him anxious and edgy. Both of them had too many enemies to make even a hospital a safe haven.

What if Illya died from this? What if he never recovered? The reality that there could be permanent damage from this was very real. Illya might well be paralyzed, or brain dead. No one had said anything to Napoleon; he had no way of knowing one way or the other. That he might never get to tell Illya of his epiphany, of his love, it just wasn't fair. Not when he'd just figured it out for himself. That Illya might not feel the same way, it didn't matter. Nothing matter except telling him the truth as Napoleon Solo now saw it.

_Please, God, just let him be okay. Just give me a chance to say what I have to say and for him to hear it. _He closed his eyes, unaware of the man who watched him and made note of his appearance. Had he been watching, he might have seen or he might not have. He was so lost right now.

_Please let me do this. If you give me this, I won't forget it. _Napoleon thought to add _amen_, but didn't.

His head suddenly swerved in the direction of approaching footsteps. An orderly held his attention for a brief second, then the doctors entered – grim faced, but not carrying that sense of finality that Napoleon had feared.

"Mr. Solo, your partner is awake."

"Is he okay?"

"He will be having headaches for awhile and will need complete bed rest to recover, but there should be no long term effect."

_Thank you, God, _Napoleon thought. He would give Illya a bad time now and wait until the man was feeling better. Then once he was certain Illya could hear and understand what he needed to say, Napoleon would tell him the truth, the truth he'd only come to realize himself.

As he followed after the doctors, he didn't notice the orderly going to the phone to make a call. All Napoleon could see was the happy thoughts of tomorrow and none of the ugliness to come.

"Mr. Karmak, I have news for you – good news."

*Prelude to Deadly Quest


End file.
